Writing...

I'm writing again. I took on the NaNoWriMo challenge once again. Last time was in 2005. Didn't complete, didn't really compete, either. Too much going on personal life. Same with 2004. Not only did I have all the shit going down with the idiot, I also had the idiot insisting on 'outdoing' me. I was constantly asked how much I had written, but wasn't given any real time to write. There was always something that needed doing. I had forgotten about it by the time I moved here. That first November, I was already seeing Sic-un and wrapped up in a new relationship. The second, I had just moved in and was looking forward to cooking my own Thanksgiving dinner. Time went on and NaNoWriMo became something that I had 'tried but failed so why try?' 6 days before this Halloween, I saw a blurb on it over on boingboing.net (I think).

I thought about it. Did I have the desire to do it, to make a serious attempt at writing something? Well, yes. I've half-way plotted my way through several things. Did I have the time? Well, DUH. I'm not on the computer doing something useful, you know, not even entertaining. I actually spend quite a bit of my time being entertained by my computer. Sites I'll go to, games I'll play, Teh IntarWeb exists as an alternative to the squawk box. So, yeah, I do have the time. I'm up until 2:30, 3 most nights anyway. Rather than play stupid games all night, might as well write something.
I decided I'd do it, signed up on the 27th of October. I set up a profile, then set up an outline, character maps, everything. It was supposed to be some sort of Herman's Head type thing, a conflagration of the id, ego and superego warring it out to see who would come out on top, introducing such characters as The Clerk, who really does live in my brain. He's an unassuming chap, believes in the power of the bow-tie to make it serious. Yes, he wears the suspenders instead of a belt. He also is prematurely balding because I keep making him run all over at top speed chasing tangents. He's ripping his hair out, Dear Reader.

I started writing on November 1. The outline and characters and the barest hint of plot of what I was doing all went straight out the window. It flew, Dear Reader, simply flew. As fast as I can type, I had a firm plot and several characters and histories. I had HISTORIES in just a matter of an hour or so. I'm now better than 1/2 way through the 50K words. I have absolutely no fear I will reach that goal. The story is a bit longer than that, I'm thinking, but Sic-un is insisting the right to reclaim a portion of me after the first 50,000. I'm moving fast enough with it and it's coming easily enough that I'm actually kindof freaked out about it.

So what's it about? I can hear the question now. That's a little harder to explain. Keep in mind my intentions were to write a wry little commentary on how insular we have become through general fiction.

The 2 remaining serial killers from a family of serial killers-who are also hardcore pornographers-kidnap Kira to be their latest 'actress'. Through a combination of drugs and Stockholm Syndrome, Kira, a young graphic designer, starts falling for one of her tormentors.

That's where I'm at. 31K in. And no, it's not safe for work. NO, REALLY. It's PORN. If you have any knowledge of ASSTR's story codes, it's going to end up being:
MF, M+/F, F/b, M/m, MM, FF, Mdom, Fdom, bi, nc, inc, ped, tort, rp, anal, size, b/d, s/m, toys, fist, best, sn

I didn't set out to write porn. And when I sit down to write, I will literally start typing and my brain goes off someplace else. It really kinda feels like someone else is writing it. Maybe it's the Clerk's frustrations at my tangents.

So that's what I'm up to. I'll post it here when I'm at 50K, ok? I don't think that'll take much longer.

Revisiting some words...

....that I've written. I'll add to it, believe me, but these are a couple of my previously published faves.
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For S (*waves*)

Compelled

He was young. He was only 21. Reminded me a lot of someone acting a part out from a movie. But a gangster movie. Godfather, Goodfellas… Something like that. That low quiet manner that says “Fuck with me and you’re dead”. I’ve always been a huge fan of that attitude. Usually it gets me into trouble, but that’s OK. ‘Cause when I went to the guys who have a gentle manner, who aren’t rough ‘n’ tumble, then I just got my heart broke.

But him? I knew his type. Best if you just fucked ‘em and then let them go, or stay, or do what they like. But you’re not the girlfriend, don’t ever go thinking you’re the girlfriend. So you have no hold on them… But his type? His type is fun and it was time for a little ‘his type’.
We had made arrangements, spur of the moment. He was going to come over and we were going to fuck. That’s about as basic as you can get. I was incredibly horny. I had been thinking about this for the two hours it took for him to get to my place. My hands started wandering. I was wearing a sarong, with a tshirt. I had left my bra on, didn’t want to seem too eager, but pinched my nipples until they ached anyway. Started fingering myself, anxious for him to arrive. I watched the door as I ran my fingertips around and around my clit, getting wetter and wetter, thinking about him catching the skin of my neck in his teeth. I could still feel that delicious little nip.

The door opened, he saw me with my hand in my sarong and smiled. Beautiful blue eyes drinking me in, coming towards me on the bed. I pushed myself up onto my knees. He lightly grazed his hand onto my face, leaned in and kissed me slow and deep and lush. It was soft and hard all at once. I wrapped my upper body around his, sucking and nipping his lips, his tongue. He grabbed my tshirt by the hem and pulled it over my head. I started running my hands all over his body, staring at him, kissing him.

He reached his hand down, found the opening to my sarong. Running his hand up, he placed his thumb on my clit and pressed in, then started massaging as he started fucking his fingers into my pussy. I began moving my hips to match his rhythm. I quickly removed his shirt, tugging it over his head. Moved my hands to the button on his jeans, pulled the zipper down over his hardness.

I had to touch his chest. Covered in glorious texture, it was irresistible. I kept running my hands over and over his chest as I kissed him, as he continued fucking me with his fingers. He smelled like nothing and yet like everything. His presence consumed me. I felt like I was in a whirlwind, touching and fondling and licking and sucking.

I was touching him, leaning up to kiss him. He started nipping my neck, my shoulders, all the while finger fucking me with his thumb on my clit. The orgasm came out of nowhere, no warning, just upon me. He pulled off my sarong with his free hand, lifted his other hand to his mouth, licked each finger almost delicately. He leaned over me to kiss me. I could taste my juices on his lips. He reached around and before I could blink my bra had joined the rest of my clothes. He bent further, started mouthing my nipples, leaning me back onto the bed, his fingers continually moving in and out, his thumb beating a quick tattoo on my clit. He leaned me back, chewing on my nipples, nipping my ribcage.

I kept fondling him, touching where I could touch, scratching and rubbing him, spread eagled on the bed with his hand between my thighs. He kissed me again, hot and sweet. He slowly quit manipulating my pussy, moved his hands to my breasts, pulling and tweaking my nipples. He laid beside me, continuing to fondle, kiss. My beautiful cunny was tingling, dripping juices dampening my thighs. I kneeled up over him, straddled his hips. He continued pulling and tweaking my nipples, looking at me as though he wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do, but enjoying it all the same. His hard cock told me that.

I rubbed that hard cock up and down my cleft, circles around my clit. Shivers ran through my body. I had taken him by surprise. I could see that in his face. Had anyone taken charge with him before, or was this all new to him? The thought of taking over this beautiful man’s sexual experience was enough to drive me insane. I plunged myself down on his cock, taking it in one motion, sealing my wet sheath to his groin.

His blue blue eyes widened, feeling me surrounding him. I kept staring at him, gripping his hot cock in my cunt, milking him with just my muscles. Rubbing that wonderfully furry chest and watching him wrap his brain around what he was feeling with my pussy clenched so tightly around his beautiful cock.

I began moving up and down on his cock, slow, measured strokes. I wiggled my hips every time I hit bottom. He kept twisting and turning his head, trying to escape me watching him. I followed him with my gaze. He grabbed my hips, tried to set the rhythm… I wouldn't let him. I ignored his attempts, and kept up my own pace, in and out with that little wiggle and a clench at the bottom of every stroke.

I reached down to his hands still gripping my hips, still holding me, trying to set pace. I moved my legs down his so I was face to face with him, with my tits on his chest, my feet between his knees and his ankles. I was rubbing my clit all along his cock, bottoming out, a little clench, soaking him down with every stroke. He kept arching his back, lifting his hips, thrusting deeper into me. I was supported completely on his chest, my hands at his on my hips, just moving my hips to rub on his cock.

I grabbed his wrists. His eyes widened again. In one movement I pulled up my knees so I was kneeling again, sat down hard on his cock, pulled his wrists above his head and held him down with my hands. I started pounding my cunt onto his cock fast and hard and deep. I wanted to lean forward and tell him ‘Fuck me NOW’.

He was gone. He was shaking, moaning. I came again, snapping my pussy down hard on his pulsing cock, flooding him. He was soaked. I screwed my cunt down hard on his cock while I came, gripping, throbbing, squeezing his cock hard. He arched his back, roared like an animal and then came, shooting his seed deep into me. I held his hands above his head, twitching and pulsing around him.

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And a tip o'the hat to MonMouth, long may he blog! (from his 2005 blogversary)

On The Way...

It was on the way to Mon’s party. I had stopped to pick the blog-boy up just a little something. I was on my way through the underground station, going up the stairs. Then a queue. Something was happening on the street, but they couldn’t tell us before we started up, no… I stopped along with everyone else.

Because of the amount of people in the stairwell, nobody was moving anywhere. Bodies were pressing into each other. I was breathing the over-perfumed dead-thing of a coat on the woman in front of me. Someone was pressing into me. Because of the angles, I really could not see who it was. It was a man, though, I could tell that, not only from the hardness of his body, but his hand was on the rail next to mine. Large hand, strong hand… Light sprinkling of hair right where the band of his watch met the base of his hand.

The crowd behind me pushed forward slightly. I felt him push into me, centering on my ass. I gasped, pulled my head back from the woman’s coat, afraid I’d smother in the scent of gardenias. I felt his hands, suddenly on my waist. “Steady.” I felt his breath hot against my ear and neck as he pulled me towards him slightly. The woman in front of me turned, smiled and nodded and then turned back around. I had leaned back even further to avoid that hideous coat. He breathed again in my ear, sending shivers throughout my skin.

“So push back again if you mean yes. Otherwise, we’ll just chalk it up to being crowded.” He waited. I took stock of where I was, and what could happen. I also took note of the sudden rush of dampness to my thighs, the pebbling of my nipples. I took a deep breath, feeling his hands strong on my waist. I leaned back, deliberately pushing my ass towards him. He ran his hands down my sides, feeling my hips and my garters through the thin wool of my dress. He ran his tongue along the rim of my ear, again sending a wave across my skin. He pushed his now hard cock into the cleft of my ass, pulling me towards him. I pressed into him.

Suddenly, pressure in the stairwell eased. The crowd above was dispersing, people were moving. I held onto his hands at my waist and we walked up onto the street. He could have easily pulled away… He didn’t. I could have quickly walked away… I didn’t.

We made our way to a small alleyway between the buildings. We moved as far back from the street as we could. “Condom?” He breathed into my neck once again, still behind me. I fumbled in my purse, pulled one out, handed it back to him. He pushed my skirt up to my waist, put my hands on it to hold it, pushed me over ever so slightly. He unzipped his pants. I was turned on enough by this time I could feel my dampness halfway to my knees. Placing a hand on my dolphin tattoo, I heard him open the condom with his teeth, felt his free hand fumble, putting it on. He stroked my tattoo, causing me to shiver again.

Still stroking my tattoo, his other hand ran down the crack of my ass straight into my pussy. He curled his fingers, wiggling them, and made it feel as if there were ten hands stroking me instead of just one. I gasped, pushed back towards him, arching my back. I braced one hand on the wall in front of me, the other was still ridiculously holding my skirt up for him.

He left off stroking my tattoo, and still running his fingers all over my pussy, grabbed the hand still holding my dress. He maneuvered my hand around my hip to my groin, pressing his condom-covered cock into the Y formed where my legs met my ass.

“Touch yourself.” He moved his other hand back to stroke my dolphins, trace their pattern again into my skin. I began to slowly, almost languidly, move my fingers in circles around my clit. The softness of the wool quickly soaked up my juices, became damp in my hand. He began pressing his fingers into me, first one, then two… Then he began stroking. I gasped again, pushed back onto his fingers, quickly catching the rhythm.

His firm cock slowly replaced his fingers. He stretched me, the dampness now seeping down my stocking covered legs towards my shoes. Still stroking my clit, I could feel every inch of him pressing into me, his balls slapping against my ass as he fucked into me. I kept rubbing my clit, lightly, now that he was inside me. I was milking him with my muscles, drawing up then releasing in the rhythm of his fucking. I left off teasing my clit to brace myself fully against the wall, slam my pussy back onto his cock, multiplying the pressure, feeling like I was adding inches to the strokes. He moved into me faster. I couldn’t keep up the contraction of my muscles with the speed of his strokes, gave up trying, instead wildly pulsing around his thick cock.

I came, openmouthed and panting, pressing hard back onto him. His cock swelled, pressed. He shouted his pleasure, once, then groaned, leaning over my back, my neck, pulling me into him, the rhythm unsteady, easing up. He slipped out of me, pushed away. I heard the sound of the condom being pulled off, thrown away down the alley. Then a mouth, hot and hard against my tattoo.

Footsteps, going away towards the street. I pulled my dress down, bent to pick up my purse. Thankfully it hadn’t spilled. I turned, caught a glimpse of a tall man, dark hair, nice suit turning onto the street opposite of where I should have been headed. Making my way to the street on my unsteady knees, I joined the sidewalk crowd, turning right where he had turned left.

It boded well for Mon’s party, I thought. 

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As I said, I'll write more....soon. Inspired, methinks.